Breathe Me In
by Anguish of My Love
Summary: First of the 'Trilogy'. There are five stages in Sam and Freddie's relationship. Seddie


Disclaimer: Yeah, mmhmm, see you in the next fic, maybe by then, I won't have to be writing this anymore.

* * *

I.

Sam looks up from the table and curses, already wishing she didn't. She takes a bite from her chicken harshly and tries to focus on anything and everything but the offending…_thing_…in front of her.

Freddie is laughing and trying to balance his open laptop on one hand and his falling body bag on the other. She doesn't like the fact that it, his sound (she curses again, he has his _own sound_ now?), vibrates and echoes around the room so it's like he's the _only_ sound there is. They're in a cafeteria.

Carly is still getting her lunch so she's left alone with Freddie, he slides his way next to her. She glares at him. She doesn't talk right away, because she's sure her voice will crack, and god knows she doesn't want Freddie fawning over her (really, though?). She swallows her chicken. "Whassit, dork?"

The brunette rolls his eyes. "Nothing, Sam."

She almost sighs. She bites another one and it's twice as big as the last one. The idiot never notices. But then again, neither does Carly, and she's the best friend. She doesn't blame her though, she's fought Freddie for all her life, would anyone really notice if she snapped faster anymore? Or if she got annoyed of him for no apparent reason? It's not like it wasn't like that even before.

Before _that_.

That _thing_ she'd rather not call anything. It really shouldn't exist. It's ironic, and she hates irony (unless, of course, it's on her side, but it's not, so she hates it). She's never been good at triangles. Hell, she's never been good at _love_ (she almost winces at the word). She's never really….loved someone before. Attracted, sure, but she could get over that. Love was another thing.

She hated Freddie. For everything. For…for being so _stupid_…and _annoying_...and _geeky_…and _better_…._nice_…_charming_…for being his blood damn _self_! She scowled. Everytime she felt herself being able to pull away, he acts like _himself_ and it's fuckin' all over again. It's like pause, rewind, replay over and over. She wants to get the remote and hit fast forward. But she bloody well can't. It's in _his_ hands, and she has a feeling he won't be letting it go soon.

"Sam?" A small tentative voice.

Her head whips around. "What?" she snaps.

Freddie looks at her with a mixture of surprise, doubt, and just a little bit of fear. She bites her lip. "What's up?"

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She turns back to her food, almost bitterly. "S'nothing, idiot."

Freddie's eyebrows rise, that's a new name, but doesn't say anything. He knows better than to mess with Sam. Or maybe, he didn't.

Sam sighs mentally. She's being stupid. She can't hate him. She probably doesn't even want to. But she _can't not_. But that's just being stupid, so she tries to shove those thoughts down and distracts herself with her almost nonexistent chicken and the fact that Freddie's scent reminds her of sweat, pork, and faded cologne.

II.

Freddie screams something at Sam. It doesn't really matter _what_ it is, they're always fighting, and no one ever seems cares about what it is, neither do they. Half the time, the reason why they started never even really matters to the argument anymore.

Sam growls and yells back louder. Looking at her makes him feel so infuriated and scared and downright pissed that he wants to kiss her and punch her at the same time. He's been having these feelings a lot lately, he doesn't even care anymore. There's so much passion (_too much_ of it) between the two that it's creeping both into hate and attraction. He notices that her face is red all over.

He steps closer and challenges her.

She does the same thing.

They do this repeatedly enough that soon, Freddie (and only Freddie) notices that they're only a few inches apart.

He notices that her eyes are awfully bright and her lips are awfully pink from Sam biting them for too damn many times. Her hair is a mess and everything about her is perfect and not at the same time.

He takes all of her in and decides that looking at Sam makes him both so elated and enraged that he can't help but scream whenever Sam does. He's thrown into a sea of strong emotions he's battling himself out and fighting Sam along the way. He wants to do _something_ to her and it ends up with him arguing about god knows what and he releases all this fervor out until the next time he can't take it anymore again and screams at her.

Sam unknowingly steps closer to him, and he can feel her hot breath and screams on his face. She growls again, and suddenly, he can't take it anymore.

Sam's too surprised to react when she's suddenly pushed against the wall and smashed against it and Freddie's body. It takes far too long before she realizes he's _kissing_ her, _he's_ kissing _her_. And there's so much passion that Sam can't think besides "What?" but her voice is muffled against his and she can't bloody move even if she wanted to (but she didn't).

Freddie tries to pull away, he doesn't want to go further, but then he can't, and he really doesn't want to anyway. He wants this too fucking much, so he tilts his head and deepens it. He vaguely wonders if Sam would hit him before letting go of her wrists and wrapping his arms around her waist. He draws her closer, but he's afraid that it'd be too close so he loosens his hold, just a little bit.

Sam stares at him and scolds herself to wake up, this is a bloody dream, shake yourself out of it. But the taste of Freddie's lips is so damn _good_ and she clutches him tight and hopes she doesn't wake up soon. He's rough and gentle at the same time and her knees bulk when he deepens the kiss further and the passion's too much for her, she _wants_ to pull away, she _needs_ to have more.

Freddie smirks when Sam moans helplessly against his mouth. He's never in control and he loves the feeling that _he_ makes _Sam_ weaker, his hold on her tightens. He wants to try something so he slowly tries to pull away but she leans to his warmth and his smirk widens. He doesn't want to stop kissing her, not really.

But he's lacking oxygen so he lets her lips go.

"Freddie…" she stutters and whispers.

He places his forehead on hers and pushes it so that the back of her head is on the wall and he can feel each pant and breath she lets out. He smiles. His eyes close and he feels calm again, the fire's dulled and calmed, it's nowhere smaller than before but it's still now and placid. "I hate you," he murmurs.

She exhales shakily. "I hate you more." And she winds her arms up to his neck and pulls him closer to her.

III.

Sam throws another popcorn into her mouth and munches with no such care of etiquette. She adjusts herself and digs her head deeper into Freddie's chest, he grunts lowly. He grabs the bowl from her hands and takes a handful before putting them all in his mouth. They're on a beanie together with Freddie sitting down low and Sam lying on top of him with her head on his chest and the rest of her body on the chair.

She doesn't say it aloud but she admits she likes this, the calmness, the quiet. They hardly ever have moments when no one is screaming or thrashing or kissing the passion away. It's not like she doesn't like it when they're fighting or kissing, she loves the passion of their relationship. She wouldn't have it any other way.

But then, she secretly cherishes the moments when they're just together and being…well, like this. She's almost just as hopelessly romantic as Carly is. She enjoys it when she can just be with Freddie and he scoots closer to her, when he holds her hand just because he can, when he looks at her and she looks back and he smiles his stupid, cute grin.

She chuckles mentally, she's so stupid. But she doesn't care, she loves Freddie, and anyone be damned if they make fun of her and her feelings.

…She loves Freddie…

She ducks her head between Freddie's neck and shoulder, choosing to ignore the questioning gaze she's sure he's throwing at her. She blushes. She can't _believe_ how much Freddie's affected her. The first time he saw her, the first time she saw that dork of a smile and that stupid damn look, she's wanted to punch him, kick him, castrate him if she knew that term when she was still nine. And now….

…Now, she's like _this_.

She grunts as she realizes how hopeless she is. They're…together (for the lack of better term, really, it wasn't like they were boyfriend/girlfriend or anything, they're relationship was far too dysfunctional and less of a relationship and more of a complication)…for a while now. And every time he's there in front of her, she wants to punch him and kiss him, shout and cry, and she just bloody wants to _tell him she loves him_.

But then she doesn't, wouldn't, _couldn't_. There's this stupid little voice that tells her she should tell him how much she loves him, but then there's this really loud voice that tells her not to, because she's not ready, and he's not ready, and _they're_ just so…confusing, it doesn't even make sense anymore!

She blinks on his shirt and brings her head up and _looks_. At nothing, everything, something. She's past denial, past the realizing phase, way past the hopeless stupidity and disbelief when she realizes how much she felt for him, and past the acceptance. But she doesn't know if she should tell him.

There's something telling her he might not feel the same. She hates doubt, but she can't shake the feeling off. There's this little tug in her mind that keeps telling her that it's just passion and sexual tension. It's not much of a surprise, really, how they got together, it was from the tension. If it were a cool night, if they weren't screaming their heads off, she doubts Freddie would even _look_ at her.

She hates the feeling as much as she hates not getting away.

Freddie looks at her and she comes back to reality and notices how she never turned her head away. There's this question in his eyes and Sam wonders if he's looking straight at _her_ eyes, too.

"I love you, dork."

He blinks and she repeats the action and wonders briefly what was wrong with her.

He opens his mouth and the words die on both their mouths and he turns away.

"I-I have to do something."

She chooses not to think about how fast his actions are and how his eyes never meet hers and how the door banging sounds a little too loud to her ears, and decides to think about how stupid and reckless she is.

She grabs a cushion Freddie was leaning on and stuffs her head in it and screams. His warmth and scent cover her face and quivering body.

IV.

Freddie hoists himself up and looks at the clock. **3:26 pm**. He groans and falls on his bed again, his head buried in his pillow. It's almost thirty minutes since the start of their rehearsal, he doesn't really know if they _are_ rehearsing right now. For all he cares, Sam and Carly can be making out.

His face scrunches as images of Carly and Sam kissing fill his mind. He growls, a wave of possessiveness crashes down on him. Damn his feelings, damn him, damn _Sam_. She should bloody rot in hell, she belongs there.

He screams deeply into his pillow.

He wants to go to Carly's apartment, but then _Sam's_ there. Involuntarily shivers run up his spine. He can't face her, he _doesn't_ want to face her. He can't take looking at her face right now, he's afraid to do something stupid, or something _more_ stupid, at the least. He's not ready to see her, he's not ready for her to see him, he's not ready to accept, _hell_, he's just not ready. Period.

"_I love you, dork."_

He shuts his eyes tight, as if that would remove the image of Sam's face full of certainty and unadultered affection. He hates the fact that Sam seems so sure and he isn't, he isn't and he runs away because he's _scared_ and he's being so damn _stupid_. Why did she have to say it so soon? Why did he have to want her so much?

Love's never crossed his mind before. All he _knew_, all he was _certain of_ was that he just fucking _wanted her so bad_ and that he had to have her as soon as he could. He knew he had feelings for her, but, dammit, he didn't know exactly _what_ it was, or to _what extent_. And the prospect of falling in love scared him.

He's never fallen in love before, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to fall in love _now_. And with Sam, no less. Sam's always been…Sam, nothing else. He can't picture her as the person who he falls in love with, the person he dedicates his damn life to. He can't imagine Sam making him _fall in love_ with her.

Or maybe he didn't want to.

He makes a noise from the back of his throat and swears he hates Sam. She's just so fucking _stupid_, and _demanding_, and _Sam_, so why can't he just hate her? Why can't he look at her and feel like she's the devil and all she wants to do is torture her to death, like before? Why can't she be _hateable_ and not _loveable_ so it'll all be easier for him?

Because she's _Sam_, that's what.

He looks up, but then his door is slammed open.

"_Freddie!_"

His eyes widen and he turns around to find Carly Shay in his room, looking mad for the first time. "Freddie, _go to her!_" She glares and he's surprised she _looks_ like Carly and _sounds_ like Carly but doesn't _act_ like Carly.

"What?"

"Freddie," she says pleadingly and urgently, "Just _go to her_."

"But, Carls," he pushes himself up and turns to her so that he was sitting with his body turned to her but his head bowed down, "Carls, I…" His lips quiver and he looks at her again, "What'd I do?"

She looks like she's about to scream at him again, but she sees his face and deflates. "I…Do _something_," she finishes lamely.

He scrunches up his face and looks at her as if _she_ was the reason Sam said what she said. "Freddie," she murmurs hopelessly, "She's not _Sam_."

He doesn't say anything and wonders idly if he could suffocate himself with his pillow.

He hears shuffling and Carly sits beside him on the bed. She hugs herself and feels like she's about to cry from all the drama. "She's not crying, but she's _choking herself on ham_. She's shoving everything in and she doesn't want to stop. And even when there's no more, she makes Spencer _buy_ and eats it all. I don't even have to worry about her weight because she's pacing and running and she hasn't sat down ever since I went home. I don't even think she feels the throbbing on her legs."

Carly looks at Freddie and notices the worry and guilt and something she can't quite place yet.

She sighs and treads her fingers together and squeezes hard. "She's shaking, Freddie," she whispers, "I don't know if she's trying not to cry or if she really just can't."

"But," his voice is high from guilt and hesitance, "What do I _do?_" He looks at Carly. "I don't…know…what I feel."

She stares at him and sighs. The corner of her lips twitch up and she says, "Well, that solves one problem."

Freddie smiles slightly before dumping himself on the bed. "I can't _go_ to her, Carly. I'd only stare at her and probably make things worse." He buries his face deeper into the sheets. "I don't wanna make things worse."

Carly sighs again and looks at her clenched hands. "I don't want them to, either," she murmurs, "But what about Sam?"

Freddie looks at her and she squirms. She's not making this better, but she's just so damn _worried_ and she can't…she doesn't know what to do anymore. "It's just," she stutters. "She's killing herself. Freddie, she's…she's not Sam anymore," she repeats.

"I can't do anything. I'm watching my _best friend_ kill herself like I'm watching some dumb chick flick." She looks at him and, this time, she won't look away. "I know you don't know if you like her, or hate her, or love her, or _whatever_, and I don't know either, but…but what _now_? I don't know what to do, and you don't either, and Sam's _dying_. What can we do now?"

Freddie grips on his pillow and turns his head to Carly, and he sees she's about to cry. He panics and sits up and wishes so hard that everything was okay again and stares back. The tears fall and no one says anything. Carly's crying because _Sam's_ hurting, and Sam's hurting because _he_ made her, so it's all just a bloody chain reaction until someone actually _dies_ and he's so confused and worried that he stands up and—

—and then he says, "I'll tell her I love her."

Carly's eyes widen and she stands up, too. "But-but what if you're not? Freddie," she goes to him, she's afraid he'll lie and everything will get worse and it's bad enough as it is already, "What if you don't?"

"I do," he resolves, even as his voice cracks because now _he's_ hurting, too, and he just wants to make all Sam's pain go away. "I do, and I'll tell her."

He heads out of his apartment to go to Carly's. He makes his way to the studio and doesn't notice Spencer looking at him. He promises himself that, this time, he'll make things right.

V.

Sam was still pacing and eating when Freddie enters the room. She looks at him frantically and freezes with ham on her hand. All the confidence slip out of him and he suddenly can't look at her again. His steps slow and become hesitant then he's right in front of her and Freddie's eyes are somewhere else when Sam's are boring right into his face.

"Whu-what do you want?" He winces at the pitch and at the rawness of her voice. He doesn't answer and decides on tugging his shirt. Sam looks at him hard, but turns around and stuffs her face with meat. "Leave me alone," she says when she swallows.

He looks up to see her dump the plate on a beanie and takes a step forward. "Sam…"

"_Leave_." Her voice is high and cracked that Freddie is almost sure she's crying. She turns to him swiftly and glares with her not-crying-but-not-dry eyes. "_Leave me alone_."

"S-Sam, I…" He clenches his fists and it suddenly feels like he's thirteen again and he lost a bet and he's scared of Sam and what she might do to him. He bites his lips.

"Freddie, I don't want you he—"

"I love you," he interjects. Sam freezes again, and moments pass by and nothing happens. He stares and, instead of things getting better, Sam cries.

Sam cries as Freddie watches in disbelief and horror and all the pain and hurt and doubt rush out and into her and she's shaking all over and she can't _stop_ anymore.

"S-Sam," he hurries to her and the hesitance doesn't leave him yet, "Sam, du-don't _cry_." He panics and hugs her close and shakes with her. "Sam, don't-don't _worry_. Ah-I'm here, I won't leave you, I'm nuh-not going to li-leave you," he murmurs urgently and she soaks his shirt with tears.

"Don't," she stammers. "Don't _lie_ to me."

"S-Sam, I'm not—"

"You only want to make me feel better. Don't," she hiccupped, "Don't say stupid things like that." She hiccupped again.

"I-It's not stupid," he disagrees, though he feels like it is right now, because he made her _cry_ and he's not making anything better. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"No," she hiccupped, and she shook her head, "No you don't, you don't, you don't."

"I do," and he repeats himself again and again and Sam says otherwise again and again and Sam holds unto him tightly and quiveringly and he pulls her even closer and continues whispers to her _'I do'_ again and again until Sam stops and lets him hold her close enough they're almost one body.

He feels her shaking her head furiously through the shivers. His grip on her shirt and her hair tightens and his breath hitches up when he feels her wince. They don't stop murmuring against each other and it suddenly feels like they were arguing again. She hiccups again and Freddie chooses that moment to say _I do_ so hard that it silences her and everything's quiet besides Sam's hiccups and shudders and his comforting whispering.

She doesn't stop shivering and hiccupping and Freddie doesn't want to let her go and he won't. Sam can feel Freddie tremble against her, too, and wonders if Freddie is crying with her.

"I hate you," she shudders, and she cries harder.

He shuts his eyes tight and buries his face in her hair, wet from sweat and tears. "I love you, too."

And they don't let go.

* * *

Okay, fine I admit. I _failed_. I failed miserably. Okay, maybe not _that_ much, but I have a feeling I didn't actually make this rather beautifully. Dammit. Comments, and advices are _way_ encouraged :D.

This is how I imagine their relationship. Utterly dysfunctional and disastrous :D. I guess, I figured that, if their relationship doesn't advance to awkwardness and uncertainties, _this_ would definitely happen. They'd get all passionate and probably get together by means of sexual tension. And _that_ always brings problems. Passion as the basis of you relationship doesn't exactly bode well, don't you think?

I may or may not make a sequel for this, I'm not sure. It's not exactly going to be happy, in my eyes, I mean, it's not gonna end _horribly_ or anything, it's just…not gonna be a happy relationship thing. Nope, definitely not.


End file.
